Page 152 of Beautiful Exile

Farah’s gaze snapped to my father as if a flicker of doubt were creeping in. “Don’t even think about screwing me, Philip.”

He held up a hand in an attempt to placate her. “That’s not how I work. And why would I want to sacrifice my greatest weapon? How many enemies’ lives have you infiltrated for me? How many secrets have you stolen?”

Like a child preening at his words, Farah’s whole demeanor softened. “We do have the most fun together, don’t we?”

My father’s head turned slightly, just enough for me to see the sick smile spreading across his face. “We do.” His gaze flicked to Arden. “I have to say, I’ve grown a little attached to you. All the hours I’ve put into finding you. The artists’ age-progression renderings. The investigator following every lead. But it wasn’t until you moved that money that I found you.”

Confusion lit in Arden’s eyes. “Money?”

“All that money your parents left you, just sitting in the bank, and you never once touched it. But four months ago, you moved it from one bank to another and logged in from your home computer.”

The color drained from Arden’s face. “You tracked me from a computer.”

“Well,Ididn’t. I have people for that. A well-placed network. It didn’t take me long to get Clarissa—I’m sorry, I meanFarah—in place here. I needed to know if you remembered more than my voice and those damn shoes.”

“Talk about a boring assignment,” Farah muttered. “‘Watch her. See if you think she’s remembering anything new.’”

“You were so determined to survive, I honestly thought about letting you live, just to keep things interesting. But then you had to get involved with Lincoln.”

Hearing my name on my father’s lips had sickness roiling in my gut. In that moment, I would’ve carved his blood from my veins if I’d had a knife. I wanted to burn out any pieces of him in me.

Arden’s jaw clenched, her fists along with it.

My father tapped his fingers against his thigh. “What were the chances? You ending up with a foster brother on that godforsaken hockey team? Kismet. Destiny. But I couldn’t let you get close to my son. Risk that you would somehow recognize me from a photo or video. Hear my voice and send me straight to prison.”

“My brother,” Arden growled.

My dad cocked his head in confusion.

Arden’s fingers dug into Farah’s forearm. “Not myfosterbrother. Mybrother.”

My father’s head fell back in laughter. “So attached to that fake family of yours. It’s such a shame they’ll lose you.” His gaze hardened as he looked at Farah. “Do it.”

I didn’t wait. There was no time, no perfect moment. I released Brutus and charged around the corner, going straight for my dad, knowing that Brutus would see Arden in danger and go for her.

I hit him with all the force and power I could muster, but my father twisted at the last moment, avoiding the worst of my tackle.

A shriek of pain sounded, distracting me for a moment. Just long enough to register Brutus’s teeth sinking into Farah’s calf. Enough time for my father to clock me with the butt of his gun.

I stumbled back a few steps, trying to get my bearings.

Arden’s fist lashed out, connecting with Farah’s cheek in a brutal blow. Brutus didn’t miss his opportunity. He leapt in the air, his teeth sinking into Farah’s arm. The sound that came out of her this time was more animal than human. Her fingers released the knife as if all the tendons holding them in tension had been severed. And maybe they had.

Arden kicked the blade away as Farah fell to the floor, screaming in pain. “Halten!” Arden yelled to Brutus who promptly sat on Farah, using his full weight to pin her to the floor, his teeth lightly pressing against her neck.

It was all I could see before my father surged forward. I circled him as sirens pierced the air, my hands moving into a guard position as if that would protect me from a bullet.

My father let a slew of curses free as his eyes, so similar to mine, lit with rage. That fury was unlike anything I’d ever seen. As if that cold mask had finally been pulled.

“I should’ve known you would be my ruin,” he sneered.

“That’s on you, old man. You’re the one who poisons everything you touch.”

My father’s lip curled in a half snarl. “You know, I wanted to give you a chance to come to your senses. Just needed to strip everything from you first so you’d come crawling back, begging for scraps like the mongrel you are.”

I rolled to the balls of my feet. “You should know by now that I’ll never come begging for anything from you. I’d starve before I took a single scrap from your tainted table.”

My father grinned, the motion twisted just like he was. “Give your mother my best.”

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